


Hermione takes a vacation

by Mascot



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Consistent with Law if not Spirit of Canon, F/F, F/M, Middle Age, Multi, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-06
Updated: 2011-08-06
Packaged: 2017-10-22 07:34:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/235548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mascot/pseuds/Mascot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tired Hermione heads for Ginny and Harry's vacation house, where her beloved wizard smut inspires a truly relaxing evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hermione takes a vacation

“No man needs a vacation so much as the man who has just had one,” Hermione thought, straining to recall the name of the man who had said that. It was a muggle from across the pond, she knew that much. She carefully folded a burgundy sweater and tucked it neatly in her suitcase. Ron would laugh if he saw her packing by hand, but she liked it. There were some tasks that it was just simpler to without magic, even though Hermione was so tired her back ached a bit between her shoulder blades.

She wondered if it would be cold at Harry and Ginny’s vacation cabin and slipped in an extra sweater just in case.

It would be nice to see her old friends, and she hoped she could put the stresses of her work at the ministry out of her mind. It was a difficult thing, getting everyone to agree on the proper arrangements for increased participation of muggle families in the lives of Muggle-born Hogwarts students. Her work was controversial in the Ministry, of course, anything that created greater interaction between the Muggle and the wizarding world would be, but she felt it was vital that muggleborn children not be torn from their families. When she thought of the work it had taken to rebuild her relationship with her own parents, it was, well…

Exhausting.

Ron was off for a weekend with some of his Auror friends and Harry and Ginny had promised her a week of relaxation in their cabin, somewhere outside of Spilsby. Hermione had never actually been there, Harry and Ginny still had to be terribly careful of their privacy. Besides, most of the time, the families took vacations together to some educational foreign destination for the children’s benefit. It had been years since she’d taken a trip anywhere by herself that wasn’t on ministry business.

She hoped Harry and Ginny could be persuaded to let her alone to read for her time in the cabin. Tucked away inside one of her hiking boots was a small book. It embarrassed Hermione to consider how much she wanted to be alone with it, perhaps with a pot of Earl Gray by her side. It was her habit to buy large boxes of old books from Bourgin and Bourkes. In the bottom of one of those the previous weekend she’d found an intriguing little pamphlet—“Griselda, the Naughty Witch of Cambridge.” Hermione was quite fond of this sort of magical erotic novella and had learned not a small amount from them.

When Ginny had shown an interest in Hermione’s taste in literature, Ron had been predictably disgusted that his sister should have any signs of sexuality. Hermione had smiled and prepared a package, disguised from children as a furniture catalog. With some regret, she’d sent Ginny her dog-eared and beloved copy of “Rusalka—--Witch-Slave of Bryn Brooke Manor.” It had always been Hermione’s favorite but, well, there was always the concern that the children would find it, and Rusalka’s treatment at the hands of her Master and Mistress was nothing that her children needed to see.

It was really best to have it out of the house and Ginny would take good care of it. Hermione lovingly tucked “Griselda” into the bottom of her suitcase. She pulled her bag close in and gently slid the portkey out of its envelope. She took one last look at her and Ron’s neat little bedroom and she tapped the portkey with her index finger.

 

She never would get used to the feeling of falling through space. As the key pulled her along, she wondered if Harry and Ginny could be persuaded up to give up a bit of their privacy for an old friend so she could simply apparate next time.

The portkey dutifully deposited her in the driveway of a tall, austere house set back in the trees. It rose two stories straight from the ground with little ornamentation. Hermione carefully set the portkey down in the grass next to the mailbox and walked up to the front door, lugging her suitcase. It wouldn’t be a vacation without manual labor after all.

“Enter through the garage, please.”

The note was simple enough, clearly in Ginny’s handwriting, and Hermione knew it was for her. She followed the path around the Potters’ shambling brick house. The house was built into a hill and the garage was on the basement level. Hermione was relieved to see there was no car inside. At least she would be spared that this weekend. The light was slightly dim in the garage but it was clear that there was a table with two boxes on it in front of the door. She set her bag down.

Another card, identical to the one that had been on the front door, was on the door leading into the house.

“What kind of vacation would you like to have?”

Was scrawled across the card, again in Ginny’s handwriting. The letters seemed to waver in the light. She looked down at the boxes. She opened the left one first.

The left box contained the promises of a great vacation. Two new novellas sat there. There was a small packet of bubble bath and some loose tea leaves scattered about. She heard a faint rustling. A third Ginny-written card appeared on the door.

“If this is the vacation you want, carry this box inside.”

It was, of course, precisely the sort of vacation Hermione wanted, but it would be unlike her to not investigate her options fully. She gently brought down the lid of the first box and opened the second.

She jumped back. All the second box contained was a bra and panties. Hesitantly, Hermione reached for the bra. Something about it was very familiar. As she ran a contemplative finger across the lace at the top of the cups, she knew. It was a simple bra, lace trimmed, with pink bows at the base of each strap and a third pink bow between the cups. The cups were black fabric with a subtle gray striping.

It was exactly what Rusalka, witch slave of Bryn Brooke Manor, had worn as a uniform. The panties were simple black ones, again, just like Rusalka’s. The main character of her favorite novella had worn this uniform, and not worn this uniform, through a hundred delightful pages spent servicing her master and mistress to everyone’s repeated satisfaction.

Hermione stepped back. Goodness. Was this an offer? It had to be. The boxes, the bra. Her pussy clinched. Did her old friends really want her this way, gasping and sucking and servicing their every whim? Did they want to pleasure her as Rusalka’s lord and lady had, fucking her and toying with her?

As if to dispel any doubt, the charm on the second box activated.

“If this is the vacation you want, take off your clothes and put on your uniform”

She felt a tug deep within when those words appeared. She thought of the heroines of her novellas, so aggressive and free. Could she really step into that role for the weekend?

She blushed, wondering if she would possibly be able to resist. True, neither she nor Harry not Ginny looked like the characters in the novella. This looked to be some very nice underwear, but even it could only do so much. Still, Harry and Ginny knew she didn’t look like Rusalka when they made this offer. She could do her best to act like Rusalka, and she really doubted anyone would mind. The idea of wearing the outfit gave her pause, but the more she thought about a lazy romp with her old friends, the more she wanted it anyway. She thought of how much pleasure she could give and receive and suddenly novels and tea weren’t enough.

She opened her blouse. Shyly, at first, after all, she was in the Potters’ garage, but as she undid buttons, she gained boldness. She was going to do this. She was going to appoint herself Harry and Ginny’s plaything for the weekend and it would be the most relaxing vacation of her life. For once, Ron wouldn’t be the only one to go off by himself and have some fun.

She took down her skirt and slid off her stockings, placing her discarded clothes neatly in the box where she’d found the bra.

She stood naked in the garage for a moment, contemplating how muggle princesses sent off to marry a foreign prince would cross the border into a new country naked, taking no scrap of their previous lives. She was no youthful princess, but the Hermione Granger who drafted legislation and conducted meetings and attended her children's plays and graduations was neatly folded in a box in the Potters garage. Nothing from her real life was coming with her into the Potters' home.

She slid on the panties. As she bowed forward to clasp the bra, a final note appeared.

“Excellent choice. We’ve been informed of your decision and we very much approve. This door is unlocked. Meet us in the bedroom and we will give you the weekend of your life. –Harry and Ginny”

She took her wand with her, of course, but left her luggage behind her in the garage, idly wondering if she would even bother to look at it before she went home.

The garage opened into the basement, a neat and well-stocked room that reminded Hermione that romantic getaways weren’t all her friends did here. Walking past the soccer balls and garden implements broke the mood a bit and made her slightly more nervous about what was to come. Were they really doing this? They, the boring middle-aged parents? She looked down at herself, the white lace of the bra a bit shiny in a tacky sort of way. Yes, they were. She was nearly naked and walking through the Potters basement because she and her old friends were going to make love. Hermione mumbled the necessary charms, less necessary with each passing year, but in-cautiousness was not her nature.

The charms were necessary because she was walking through Ginny’s and Harry’s summer house in her underwear. The three of them were going to make love. As she climbed the stairs, the thoughts churned and she savored each one. An hour from now, they’d be giving each other slow, sleepy kisses in the afterglow. Ten minutes from now, they’d be having sex, maybe five if they jumped right to it. For a moment, Hermione paused and entertained herself with the many delightful combinations that the three of them could produce. The idea propelled her forward as if there were a portkey dragging her by the pussy.

The house was silent. The stairs onto the main level were carpeted, but Hermione could still hear her footsteps distinctly.

Light was spilling out of Harry and Ginny’s room at the end of the hall.

She rounded the corner. Her old friends looked up at her from their bed. They were curled around each other in a comfortable, natural-looking way. Harry drunk in Hermione’s barely-clothed state. Ginny took a long look, then looked away, then peeked again.

“Will you be calling me Rusalka, then?” Hermione said, forcing some of her typical crispness into her voice.

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Harry said evenly, still looking her up and down, his eyes pausing at her breasts. Hermione turned a bit, thrusting a hip forward, trying to strike the most flattering pose. Ginny still looked away, a blush coloring her pale skin.

“I hope I’m still allowed to serve you both, though,” Hermione said, well aware now that Harry and Ginny had no better plan for this than she had, despite their preparations.

“I’d like that,” Ginny murmured.

Ginny wore a green silk slip that played up her hair very nicely. It looked the part of the Lady of the Manor well enough, though it was probably something she’d had for some time. Her breasts spilled out of it in an appealing fashion and it did nothing to disguise her belly. Hermione liked it. She liked the belly and the freckles on her skin and the lines on her face. She might want to read about perfection, but she wanted to make love with her good friends in the flesh they had.

“May I slip in next to you?” Hermione asked.

“P-please.” Ginny was bashful, but she clearly did nothing to discourage it. Hermione warmed her body next to Ginny’s, running a hand down Ginny’s hair. Ginny quaked a bit at Hermione’s touch.

“This was a lovely surprise,” Hermione said. She leaned over and kissed Ginny, meeting only the faintest resistance before Ginny opened her mouth wider and let Hermione explore. The bed shifted gently, and Hermione suspected that Harry’s erection now rode against Ginny’s side. Ginny gave a whimper of need and Harry caressed her shoulder, playing with the strap of her nightgown. Hermione took the cue and began to do the same on the other side.

In one swift motion, Harry slid down the strap, exposing Ginny’s breast, and such a breast! Hermione did the same and, moving together, they each took one of Ginny’s nipples. Ginny’s reaction was instantaneous and dramatic, whimpering and bucking as her husband and her sister-in-law brought her to swift orgasm.

Hermione sucked gently, giving Ginny’s nipple an occasional flick with her tongue. Ginny’s hips wiggled as if by instinct and within a minute or two, they were bucking again. Hermione was enchanted with the constantly-shifting ocean of pale flesh before her. The room has quickly taken on the scent of sex and Hermione’s desire pulled deeply within her. She used her little teeth very gently on Ginny’s nipple, building up a fabulous tension before those hips let it go again. All the while, Hermione drank in Ginny’s wonderful smell.

Though boarding school had been a long time ago, Hermione had never lost her fondness for the taste of another woman. She recalled that Ginny had always tasted especially delicious.

“Now,” Ginny croaked out. Hermione and Harry looked up at her. “Hermione’s our guest and she hasn’t had a bit of fun yet,”

“Oh, I have,” Hermione said.

“Still,” Harry said, “Funny kind of Lord and Lady of the Manor we’d be if we didn’t use our Rusalka properly.”

“A disgrace to Bryn Brooke hall” Ginny smirked.

“I’ll wager you two liked that book as much as I did or we’d be sipping tea and talking about the weather at this point,” Hermione observed.

“What was the part I was reading to you last night as you brought me off with your mouth?” Harry asked, more for the effect on Hermione than for the information.

“The Lord of the Manor forced himself upon Rusalka from behind while Rusalka made love to the Lady of the Manor,” Ginny moaned, her moan broken by a giggle.

“Oh, that bit was brilliant!” Harry said.

“Shall we give it a try?”

He didn’t even bother to remove Hermione’s panties, he merely thrust himself inside her, which was simple enough because she was already wet as a sloppy kiss. Harry’s cock was shorter than Ron’s but pleasantly thick, still, Hermione’s attention was still taken by the rarer pleasure, Ginny’s pussy. Ginny was an ocean and Hermione loved the salty taste as she explored the reefs within. A long time ago, before she’d known about wizardry, she’d gone scuba diving off the coast of Australia. Those memories came to her now as her mouth explored her friend’s every crevice as Ginny moaned and tossed with delight, with Harry lazily fucking Hermione from behind.

When Ginny could take no more and pulled away, Hermione pushed back against Harry’s hard prick and he responded by increasing the speed of his thrusts. Ginny, spent, was curled at the head of the bed watching her husband pound into Hermione. Harry gave a tormented groan, his hands tight on Hermione’s hips. When she felt him give that little quiver men give right before the moment, Hermione shifted her hips back and up, pulling Harry against her clit and bringing herself to orgasm. She was looking deep into Ginny’s eyes when Harry emptied himself inside her.

Hermione, as the abused creature Rusalka, pointed out that she should be making dinner, but Ginny wouldn’t hear of it. She and Harry both enjoyed cooking and had well stocked the refrigerator in anticipation of a weekend where meal preparation would be a low priority. After they’d recovered a bit, Ginny went downstairs to get some mugs of soup and some bread.

“You think Ron’s going to kill me for this?” Harry said, as much to the room as to Hermione.

“Unlikely,” Hermione said. “Though I suppose it depends on what he and his quiddich boys are up to.”

“No good,” Harry said, his tone the voice of experience.

“Well, I’d like to think we can manage more misbehavior in a weekend than he can,” Hermione allowed. “Shall we owl him with a challenge?”

“Only if it won’t make him pass out from the shock.”

“If it would, we will only be that much farther ahead in the competition,” Hermione said, “But I think Ginny and I have plans for you for after dinner. We probably won’t get around to sending that owl until morning.”

Hermione settled in to bed on Harry’s left side, waiting for Ginny to come back and join him on the right. Novels and tea indeed. This was a vacation.


End file.
